


Then and Now

by Ekkos



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel (Movies)
Genre: 1940s, M/M, Oblivious Steve Rogers, Past Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Time Skips
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-10
Updated: 2014-05-11
Packaged: 2018-01-24 05:19:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1593005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ekkos/pseuds/Ekkos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky slowly begins to piece together the fragments of his past life whilst trying to figure out how to live his new one, unsure of whether to continue living as the man known as Bucky Barnes or to wipe his slate clean and have a fresh start.  A decision represented in the form of Steve Rogers and Sam Wilson.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Brooklyn, New York City  
1940**

Bucky often wondered why Steve never ran away. 

Scratch that, he knows why Steve never ran; the poor bastard was just too stubborn and just too damn _good_ to walk on and keep himself out of it, even if it meant taking a punch for a person who could more than likely stand a better chance than he would at holding their own. 

What does occasionally keep James Buchanan Barnes up some nights though, is questioning where this hero-complex came from. You’d think that after knowing a guy from the age of 9 and 10 respectively, you’d understand him inside and out. And in most cases, yeah, Bucky did know Steve that well. But no matter how many fights Steve got into and Bucky saved him from, he never quite figured out if Steve refused to stay down because he had something to prove to the world, or something to prove to himself. He never knew if Steve wanted to show others that anyone and everyone could be a good man regardless of their limitations or because he had to prove to himself that he could still be useful and strong when every cell in his body said otherwise. Maybe it was both, maybe something else entirely.

All Steve ever said was that he hated bullies, which was an honest answer; just not one Bucky was satisfied with.

Regardless of whether or not Bucky fully understood it, this huge amount of bravery for the much too fragile man was a part of Steve that Bucky loved. 

So here they were, sitting across from each other in a small, humble diner that buzzed with the indistinguishable murmur of other customers and smelled of warm cakes and pastries, as they nursed a couple cups of coffee and a bloody nose. 

“I’m impressed, Steve. This is probably the first time I’ve seen you leave scratches on the other guy. Finally land a couple hits back this time?” Bucky said with a playful but not patronising grin.

“Oh ha-ha.” Steve replied humourlessly, his voice sounding a bit off due to the fact he was clamping a bloody handkerchief on the bridge of his nose.

“Alright, you got me, it’s the _second_ time you did. 2 out of 75 ain’t bad, huh?” Steve glanced irritably at Bucky, who returned the cold look with a teasing grin. Bucky sobered up shortly after. “But I’m proud of you, Steve. As much as I hate seeing you beat up like this, what you do is still pretty admirable. Stupid, but admirable.” 

Steve didn’t reply. Instead, he removed the handkerchief and tucked it in the pocket of his jacket once he no longer felt the slow trickle of blood. He then proceeded to nonchalantly pick up the newspaper that lay on the table between them, give it a rustle, clear his throat and begin to read it, in a sorry attempt to mask a small, prideful smile and the elated puff of his chest. 

The two fell into a familiar and comfortable silence that was only broken by the occasional sips of bitter coffee, the crinkle of the newspaper Steve was reading and the sound of a Vera Lynn record playing on the jukebox in the background. After a little while of staring but not really seeing out of the window, Bucky realised he recognised the song. It was a relatively new song having only been released the year before, and it became increasingly popular as the war went on. _We’ll Meet Again_ was the title (if Bucky remembered correctly) and he absentmindedly began swaying his head along to its soft tune. The majority of music Bucky heard was during the times he took laughing, faceless women dancing but even then, he never paid much attention to the upbeat sounds as he was too focused on entertaining the pretty young dame on his arm, and even more so on making sure Steve was okay. Subsequently, James was never too knowledgeable when it came to music. Steve however, was.

Steve loved Vera Lynn’s music and insisted on listening to her records whilst he spent his recovery periods drawing bowls of fruit, flowers and Bucky himself on a few occasions. Steve was arty like that.

“ _Steven Grant Rogers._ ” Bucky thought with a sigh for perhaps the 100th time that day. “ _Steven, the 5ft 4” scrawny and just generally physically flawed Brooklyn kid who was almost always mistaken for being the younger one when in fact, he was older, even if only by a year. Steven, the kid who didn’t know when to quit, who dreamed too big and danced as if he had two left feet._ ” Bucky turned his eyes back to Steve and watched him as an array of emotions flew across his face, ranging from pleasant surprise to light despair with each article he read. Bucky sat there, greedily soaking up every small aspect of what was on display before him, his coffee half-finished and long forgotten. He took in the way the late afternoon light reflected off of Steve’s dirty blond hair and made it appear like fine threads of gold, the way the broadsheet newspaper almost completely covered his small frame from view which Steve held securely in his small hands. The fine crease between his eyebrows and the strong glint of determination in his eyes he got whenever he read a mildly sad story about someone’s missing cat that could only be read as “ _I will make a difference_ ”. It was small moments like this that Bucky cherished the most.

Bucky sighed again, only this time, it was wistful. He looked down at the table and fiddled a little with the corners of a napkin.  
“ _Steve,_ ” Bucky resumed “ _The man I’d follow to the end of the line and who’d do the same for me, making probably the most perfectly mismatched duo in history._ ” Bucky chuckled a little at this, as it would be undeniably true if their compatibility was to be based only on appearances. Bucky didn’t care though, as far as he was concerned, he and Steve were like two peas in a pod. With a prolonged and melancholic look at Steve, Bucky finished his internal monologue. “ _Steve, the man I slowly and deeply fell in love with but also the man who only saw the bigger picture and never the small details._ ”

And there it was. The one thing above all else about their relationship that Bucky simultaneously despised with every fibre of his being yet got on his knees to thank the gods for. Never has Steve caught on to Bucky’s feelings, even on the few times he risked dropping hints. Steve put all his time and thoughts into trying to better the world somehow and with a war having started, that became his main focus. No matter how many times he was rejected from entering the army, he remained hopeful and put everything else in life second to his new dream of fighting for his country, whether it was hobbies, food or, as it turned out, Bucky. 

Naturally, this proved incredibly frustrating and put a slight, one-sided strain on their friendship but what was worse: to have his feelings known and rejected, destroying their age-old friendship along with his heart or to continue living like a starving beggar surrounded by food he couldn't eat, so long as he could enjoy the smell?

Bucky ran a hand through his short hair and took a deep breath.

“Hey Steve, do you wanna head back to min-” but he was cut short when a pretty brunette waitress asked if the two men would like a refill. Despite addressing both of them in the question, the waitress kept her gaze solely on Bucky as if Steve wasn’t there. Bucky caught the dejected acceptance shown through the quick slump of Steve’s shoulders, but he soon recovered and continued to read the paper. Steve was used to being overlooked and quickly gained a high tolerance for it. 

Without missing a beat after deciding to save his question for later, Bucky put on his winning smile and poured as much flirtation into his voice as he could and told the waitress that they wouldn’t be needing any more coffee but that he would take a slice of apple pie to go as long as she was the one serving him. The waitress giggled and blushed and left to go prepare the slice of pie. 

Whilst Bucky had no romantic interest in women, he did love them and wouldn’t pass an opportunity to make a lonely girl feel special if only for a moment. He’d like to say it was because his momma, with the short time she had to raise him, taught Bucky to treat every woman with respect and like goddesses but lately, it was just because it distracted him and gave him a way to alleviate some of the pent up sexual and romantic frustration he had.

As he said, he’d like to say it was because he was just that nice of a guy, but he wasn’t. 

Just as the waitress was out of ear shot, Steve suddenly sprang to his feet, knocking his chair down in the process. Bucky’s head snapped to Steve’s direction so fast he was pretty certain he gave himself whiplash. Before he could even begin to ask what Steve was so excited about, he was answered by a newspaper being forced into his face and an energetic finger pointing to an ad about a draft centre. 

“This is it, Bucky! Oh, how did I not know about this before?! This could be the time I finally get accepted and the centre is only a couple blocks from here!” 

Bucky’s heart sank just a little but he put on a smile to show some support for Steve even though he would much prefer his friend to never set foot within a 100 mile radius of a front line. The words “That’s great, Steve” had barely left his mouth before Steve was unapologetically apologising about leaving early and how he had a nice time but stated how he simply _had_ to go and sign up now and said it all in one incoherent jumble of words as he raced out of the diner’s doors.

“Sixth time’s a charm.” Bucky muttered, as he rubbed his eyes. He was sure this time would be no different from the last. Now that he was on his own he didn’t see much point in staying in the diner any longer, pie or no pie. Tossing a few bucks and a tip under the coaster, Bucky got up left and began his journey to nowhere in particular, leaving a confused waitress behind.

On his way out, Bucky noticed with cruel irony that the track had changed to _You’ll Never Know_. The one song Bucky knew all the lyrics to from listening to it on those lonely nights where he had nothing but a bottle of scotch to keep him company.

**Manhattan, New York City  
2014 -Present day**

It’s been 5 months since all of Shield’s and most of HYDRA’s secrets went public, 5 long months The Winter Soldier has been out of cryogenic stasis and 5 excruciating months since he failed his mission. His quest, so to speak, to find out who James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes was had yielded a pitiful amount of answers in relation to the questions each discovery raised. After collecting as much information he could find about Bucky Barnes and the Howling Commandos from books, museums and even the internet when he could, the ex-assassin had hit a wall.

He could tell you when James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes was born (March 10th 1917 biological age: 26) what his occupation was before he was captured by HYDRA (sniper) the orphanage he was taken to when his parents died and a million other pointless details that didn't explain the disorientating flashbacks of random snippets of his life that haunted him every hour of the day and waited for him every time he shut his eyes. So he doesn't sleep for as long as he can. Being the slightly less-than-human experiment he is, he could go without sleep for 2 weeks without experiencing any severe side effects. He stays awake for longer though, he’s never cared much about his own well-being and he wasn't going to start now.

The only thing he learnt that truly had any worth was a confirmation that yes, he _was_ James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes. That the American soldier, Steven Grant Rogers who goes by the alias Captain America, the one he met on the bridge and nearly beaten to death on the ship and then saved from drowning -his _mission_ , was telling the truth. And all at the cost of his sense of security in knowing what to do next, in knowing what was right and what was wrong and slowly but surely, his sanity.

So he made a new routine of repeating empty facts about Bucky Barn—himself whenever he started to question why he’s still breathing. He’d continue gritting his teeth through the irregularly timed flashbacks of his life and found a way out when his brain washing started clouding his thoughts. He was rarely successful with the last two. 

And it didn’t exactly help that the American solider was tracking him down.

He knew from the start that the American soldier would come looking for him and he wasn’t surprised when he brought the other soldier he vaguely remembered having a pair of mechanical wings he ripped apart. They were not the best of trackers but they just about managed to never let his trail go cold. After a while however, the roles of cat and mouse were reversed and Bucky became the hunter, deliberately leaving footsteps for the American soldiers to follow whilst secretly observing them from afar. 

Though he didn’t know _why_ he did this. He didn’t know why he did _anything_. Why couldn’t he do what a lifetime of training under HYRDRA made him do best? Why couldn’t just kill them and then disappear like the ghost he was supposed to be? None of his questions were ever answered and the chase never stopped for 5 straight months.

Until one day, the shadow of the former James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes decided to stop running.

Pulling his dirty baseball cap a little lower and forcing his flyaway strands of hair underneath it, the former assassin left the dingy underpass he spent his nights in. It was the brink of dawn meaning there was one thing the American soldier and his flying companion would be doing: running. 

At the thought of him, Steven Rogers, the winter soldier felt his chest contract. The same way it did on the bridge when the soldier called him Bucky. The same way it did as he looked down at the soldier's unconscious, half drowned body. He hated that feeling because it felt familiar, and he didn't know why. He hated it mostly because it felt _good._

He wanted to know just who exactly he was to Steven Rogers, and who Steven Rogers was to him. But first, he had something else to take care of.

**End of Chapter One.**


	2. Chapter Two

**Manhattan, New York City**

**2014 –present time**

Sam Wilson was your average Joe.

That is, if your average Joe served two terms in war flying around on top secret Wakandan wings, witnessed the loss of a best friend and then ran head first into the mess that is S.H.I.E.L.D and the world of spies and super soldiers from the 1940s, then Sam Wilson was definitely your average Joe. 

That means to say, he’s not. Though, he _does_ have a pet falcon called Redwing so his life wasn’t as abnormal as it could have been.

7 months ago, Sam Wilson was an ex-soldier turned counsellor. After a chance meeting with a super soldier from the 1940s and about a two month time lapse, he was _Falcon_ the soldier again. Fast forward another 5 months from there and Sam Wilson was finding that he was working as both and now shared a small apartment with previously mentioned super soldier.

And life was feeling pretty good for the 28 year old.

Even if you factored in the whole ‘hunting-for-an-out-of-time-brainwashed-super-assassin’ thing, because Sam was doing something he loved and something he hadn't realised he missed. 

On his mostly solitary morning runs (mostly because there would be a good handful of seconds where Steve would overtake him) Sam liked to use the quiet time to think about where the ex-winter soldier could be, what he’s doing now and how to help Steve find him. Obviously, Sam didn’t have any personal relationship with the ex-winter soldier, how could he? Technically the ex-assassin was more than twice his age and born long before Sam was, and with no real connection to him besides that one time he got one of his wings ripped off and kicked off the edge of an aircraft, Sam had no personal reasons to be on this private mission to find him. If anything, he had a backpack full of reasons not to be looking for him, unless of course, he was doing so to try and take him out –which he wasn’t.

But Steve on ther other hand, _did_ have a long history with the ex-assassin. One that was, in a lot of ways, very similar to his and Riley’s. Not that Steve talked much about his past life with Bucky. 

Bucky.

Bucky is who the ex-winter soldier was - _is_ to Steve and it wasn’t a name Sam felt like he could use without feeling like an intruder. In the short time they had been together, Steve had become a very important friend and confidant. They both knew what it was like to watch a friend die and have no power to do anything about it, what it was like to come home and have it not feel like a home at all, to bear the invisible scar that war leaves on a person, no matter how short the serving. But then, Sam never had to go through what felt like a blink of the eye and wake up in another century and be asked to adapt in the same instant. Never had to mourn the death of everyone he knew, and even himself and the life he should’ve had. Never had to then have two precious moments of joy when you found out the two most important people in your life are still alive, but to then have that moment completely crushed when neither of them remembers you. And worse yet, to have of them hell bent on killing you.

Sam would most likely never know what Steve Rogers was going through but Steve, whether he intended to or not, made Sam’s world a brighter place so Sam felt like he owed it to Steve to return the favour the only way he knew how: bring back Steve’s best friend.

It would help if he Steve told him a little more about the ex-assassin so he could use the information to predict the choices he’d make, but at the same time, he wasn’t Bucky. Not completely anyway, if any part of him was at all. It was probably better Sam doesn’t have the same background knowledge of Bucky now that he thinks about it. This way, he doesn’t have emotions to impair his judgement.

So far, Steve and Sam have chased the soldier all across North and South America, and have returned back to square one in New York State. As far as they’re aware, the ex-assassin hasn’t moved as there hasn’t been any indication he has. But he was called a ghost for a reason so there’s no way of knowing for certain.

Having run his 10 miles, Sam decided to call it a day. He hung around for a couple minutes until he saw Steve a little way off in the distance, no doubt on his 40-something mile or something crazy like that, and raised his hand to signal his departure. Sam was fit, but he wasn’t a super soldier.

It was a Saturday so Sam didn’t have to hold any support group meetings and he would be alone for the weekend as Steve had some Avengers business to take care of once he finished his run and Natasha picked him up. As he had nothing better to do and with no developments in the tracking of the former winter soldier to analyse, Sam decided to pay a quick visit to the community centre where they held the support groups anyway. 

It took about 20 minutes to walk there (10 if he wasn’t so damn tired from the run) but once he entered the building, Sam opted to hover in the doorways of different rooms where meetings were taking place to avoid disrupting them. He only stayed to listen for a couple stories and get an idea of who’s improved and who’s still finding their feet before moving on to the next. When he got to the second to last room in the hallway however, he did a double take. 

Sam was sure he was being absolutely ridiculous, because there’s no way the man sitting silently with his back to the door and a head full of long, greasy brown hair tucked under a cap could be the ex-winter soldier. There were an unknown number of men with long brown hair tucked under old baseball caps and wore tattered clothes like they were they only ones they owned who attended these meetings – Sam had regular meetings with 2 of them for Christ’s sake. There was nothing hugely out of the ordinary about this man; he sat with everyone else in a small circle and was even slouching so why, of all the people here, did he give off an aura that rubbed Sam the wrong way? 

The people in the circle were all getting up meaning the meeting had ended, and just as Sam was about to chalk this up to paranoia induced from the assassin-centric thoughts he had during his morning run and leave, something in his gut told him to look one last time. He listened to that instinct and his blood ran cold.  
In the split second he made eye contact with the long-haired man in a baseball cap, Sam experienced the smallest of infinities. 

Unmistakable dead, icy blue-grey eyes stared blankly but fiercely back at Sam. _Why now? Why here? Why? How?_ Was all Sam had time to think before his line of vision was blocked by person exiting the small room and then, the winter soldier lived up to his legend and was gone like a wisp of air. Like a ghost.

For a minute, Sam had no idea how to react. He just stood there, staring at the empty spot where the winter soldier used to stand. Snapping out of his daze, Sam sprinted out of the building, he had to find Steve as soon as he could but then he stalled when he realised Steve would have finished his run by now and would be in the process of being whisked away to meet with the other Avengers. The best option he had was to get back home and call him but the idea sounded dumb as soon as it came. Sam had no doubt the rogue winter soldier would be there. Somehow, Sam knew that the ex-assassin had planned this, he didn’t know how he knew it but he could just _feel_ it. It was by no means a random chance that Bucky was at the meeting just as it was clear he only wanted to talk to Sam. After all, why else would Bucky reveal himself to Sam and not Steve? Why Bucky had done this, he didn’t know and the only way he could find out was to go back to his shared apartment. 

Sam hated not having a choice.

When Sam arrived at this apartment complex, he was surprised to find no one was waiting around outside for him. Not that he should have been, he quickly realised, as what type of person on the run from quite literally everyone would just loiter around outside a front door waiting to be let in like a normal person? Although when Sam entered his apartment and did a thorough once over of the place, he did feel a little more justified for being confused to find nothing. Nothing was out of place or suggested anyone who shouldn’t have been there had been there and, there certainly wasn’t anyone else there. Not letting his guard down, Sam loaded a couple of hand guns and strapped them to the carriers buckled across his chest and sat on a chair that gave him the perfect view of the entire apartment whilst keeping his back to a solid wall (a key aspect he and Steve decided was essential when they were choosing a place).

So he waited, figuring the winter soldier would show up at any second but he didn’t, so Sam kept waiting.

And he waited.

And he waited for hours until the moon was up and the bottom half of his body was numb from lack of movement. His eyelids felt heavy but Sam could still fight back the urge to sleep for another 5 or so hours despite not having anything to eat or drink all day. It was a skill he acquired working 24 hour missions in the army.

Another two hours ticked away and Sam was beginning to question if Bucky was going to come or not. Maybe his unpredicted appearance at the meeting was simply just a way of the Russian soldier telling Sam that he was aware they were tracking him and to warn them to stop for whatever sure to be gruesome consequence that followed if they continued. 

Giving in, Sam relaxed and made his way to his bedroom, bleary eyed and yawning. Figuring he probably did read too much into the situation, he decided he would tell Steve about it once the sun rose again the next day. His bedroom was nearly pitch black but since his eyes had adjusted to the darkness, he could make out the basic shape of his bed and flopped down onto it without much care that he hadn’t changed from his exercise clothes. Taking off his guns, he placed them onto the dresser besides him so that they were well within reach if he needed them. He doubted he would, but you could never be too careful. 

Sam made himself as comfortable as he could in the overly soft mattress and shut his eyes. Just as he did, he felt the cold hard touch of a gun being pressed against his temple and the clicking sound it made when the hammer was pulled back, cocking the gun.

He tensed, sucking in what could’ve been his last breath.

Slowly, Sam opened is eye and looked up to shadowed face of the winter soldier. “Guess he showed up after all” he thought. He reached out, very slowly and carefully, for his lamp. He winced slightly as the gun was pressed harder into his skull as his hand passed over his own pistols but went on to turn the lamp on, dimly illuminating the bedroom and more importantly, Bucky.

“Steve’s not here.” Sam said, pushing himself up into a sitting position, leaning his back against the headboard. The gun followed his movements, now being pointed directly in front on his forehead.

“I know. He’s at Stark Tower. I’m not here for him. Not yet.” 

Bucky’s voice was deep and raspy, like he hadn’t used it in months. It’s likely he didn’t. There was a pause in which the man formerly known as Bucky just stood there and stared coldly at Sam, pointing a loaded gun at him but showing no indication he would shoot. Well, that was what Sam hoped the lack of movement implied. During their stare off, Sam had a chance to do a quick look over the winter soldier’s appearance. 

Bucky looked terrible. Their first encounter, being so brief and unexpected, didn’t give Sam much time to even think about taking his eyes away from Bucky’s face. Now, he could see the caked on grime covering every inch of his exposed skin, not that much was as he had layered on clothes that weren’t the same as the ones HYDRA dressed him in, but looked as if he hadn’t changed since he went on the run. Sam noted the overgrown, split fingernails on his remaining human hand and the dullness of his formerly shining metal one. The greasy split ends of his hair than hung limply around his hollowed, unshaven face. He had dark bags under his puffy eyes and chapped lips that hid yellowed teeth. Underneath the hoody, the shirts and the faded jeans Sam could tell that he had lost quite a bit of body mass since he’d last fought him.

Despite looking as if he’d seen better days, his appearance did nothing to reduce the intimidation his glare held. Not for a single second did Sam forget this man could kill him just as easily as he could have when the assassin was at his peak. Sam locked eyes with him again.

“If you’re not here for Steve, why are you here?”

“I need answers. You know who Steven Rogers is and I don’t.”

That threw Sam off.

“Excuse me for being a little dense here, man, but if you wanted to find out about Steve, I’m pretty sure asking him would be better than asking me.”

“No. Now tell me about Steve before I decide you’re no longer useful.”

At the back of Sam’s mind, he vaguely thought about the fact that after telling the soldier what he wanted to hear, he would still ultimately lose his worth and end up dead anyway, so with two identical outcomes, there wasn’t any reason he should make things a potentially worse for Steve by spilling information about him. At the same time, he also realised this might be a turning point in their mission that resulted in Bucky staying. Sam had to play his cards well.

“Where do I start? He’s 6ft 2”, a good 220lbs and still refers to google as ‘the google’. If you want answers, you’re gonna have to be a little more specific in your question.”

Bucky narrowed his eyes. Then, without much else as a warning, he hit Sam across the jaw hard with his gun, earning a loud grunt from Sam.

“The _fuck_ , man?! Ow…” Sam flexed his jaw to check if it was still in one piece. It was.

“Why is Steven Rogers looking for me? What is his relationship to James Barnes?”

“He’s looking for you because you’re his friend. You were, and still are, the most important thing to Steve. That’s why he’s looking for you, because he cares about you. That’s what you do when the people you care about are in danger.”

“Because I’m his friend…I’m important to him…He cares about me….” Bucky whispered under his breath, more so to himself than Sam. If anything, Bucky looked as if he completely forgotten Sam was in the room as he had lowered his gun and stared blankly off into the distance. He repeated the words another few times, more quietly than the last, like he was turning the words over and over into his head, deciphering their meaning. The glaze over his eyes cleared and Bucky raised his armed hand again, although, with a little less conviction than before.

“So why are you looking for me? I don’t know you…or do I?”

“Nah, you don’t know me and I don’t really know much about you. I’m here because Steve’s here. Steve’s my friend so I’m helping a brother out. We could be friends too, but that gun you keep pointing at my face is kinda becoming an issue.”

Bucky seemed to contemplate this for a second. After a few beats, he dropped his hand and put the gun away but his body remained just as tense, ready to strike at any moment. With no lethal weapon in his face, not counting the arguably more lethal soldier, Sam let out a shaky breath he hadn’t realised he was holding. A few drops of sweat spilled down the back of his neck.

“So uh, since I’m not getting any sleep for the remainder of the night, how ‘bout some food? I recently learned that S.H.I.E.L.D’s super soldiers actually do eat –and a lot at that, but I’m not so sure about HYDRA ones. But from what I can tell, you could use a good meal, how does leftover pizza sound?”

The ex-solider only blinked neutrally at this and made no indication he was going to move from his spot. Sighing, Sam gave up and made his way to the kitchen anyway, noticing Bucky had also started to move. Sam guessed Bucky wanted to keep an eye of him and so would make sure to be behind Sam where he could see him in full view. On his way out of the bedroom, he passed Redwing in his oversized cage. The bird gave a little confused crow, only half awake and sceptical about the unfamiliar face in the room. Sam shook his head lightly and muttered “I know, Redwing. I have got to stop letting these crazy people into my house.”

 

**End of Chapter Two.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...kind of a filler chapter but a necessary one.
> 
> I'd just like to say a huge thank you to the people who put a kudos on my work, it's feel really reassuring to know people actually like something I've written so thanks again.
> 
> until next time guys.

**Author's Note:**

> Links to the two songs mentioned:
> 
> We'll Meet Again: youtube.com/watch?v=cHcunREYzNY
> 
> You'll Never Know: youtube.com/watch?v=JZtWNlCTc6o (this wasn't released until 1943, 3 years after it's inclusion in the story, but I couldn't resist)
> 
> This isn't a songfic, but songs will have some significance every now and then purely because music is timeless and so, one of the few things Bucky and Steve will have left of the 1940s.
> 
> I'm undecided if the ratings will go up in later chapters but I'm pretty sure they will anyway to be honest.
> 
> I'm a british-english speaker so there will be 's' instead of 'z' and 't' instead of 'ed' etc. for some words. However, I will use american-english spelling for character's dialogue.
> 
> And that's it for now! Thank for reading and I'm an extremely inexperienced writer so any feedback would be really appreciated. 
> 
> If there are any grammatical mistakes, please let me know.


End file.
